


Breaking Point

by TwoRefined



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Blackmail, Breathplay, Gen, I suck at accents, M/M, Minor Character Death, Original Character(s), Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Some tags withheld for later on!, Tags Contain Spoilers, Torture, unfinished work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoRefined/pseuds/TwoRefined
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>BLU Scout is captured by the RED Team so they can find the locations of their Intelligence. Spy is in charge of the Interrogation. Can Scout withstand the torture for the sake of his comrades? How will he live with emotional scars he's sustained? How will he escape his prison and return to his own base?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cool, Calculating Ruthlessness

A rusty door swung open, flooding the dim, windowless cellar with a warm, yet somehow malicious, red glow. A Spy sporting the same color of dress strolled in, flanked by two other RED associates – an Engineer and a Heavy. The shorter man was carrying around a box of supplies, and began laying them out neatly in a specific order on a stainless steel table in the midst of the room. While he was busy, Heavy paused and closed the dank cellar from the outside world by shutting and latching the heavy bolts.   
  
Spy flipped open a cigarette case, lit one up, and took a deep draw. He exhaled slowly, directing his cool, icy eyes at the shackled figure on the ground as his two associates bustled about.   
  
The shackled form glared back boldly. “Well. If it ain’t the fat bald bastard, the skinny bald bastard, and the short bald bastard.”   
“Bonjour.”   
“Fuck off, ya shape-shiftin’ rat.”   
  
“Pardon me, but I don’t t’ink you are quite in zee position to make demands, boy,” the man drawled in his light French accent, twirling his cigarette around between his fingers. “You’ve been, eh… ‘escorted’ to a secret facility of ours, over 500 kilometers away from zee nearest BLU base, and I’m zee only object standing between you, and a long, painful death.” the man casually pulled out a beautifully engraved revolver from the inside of his vest. “So I recommend you ‘ave an intelligent thought for once in your pathetic life, and cooperate.”   
  
The boy shackled on the ground just snorted. He was around 19, and had short cropped hair that was looking pretty messy, with parts of it matted together as if he hadn’t been to a shower in a while. His wiry body was garbed only in a loose undershirt and a pair of blue camo-boxers. The bronze tan he sported was starting to fade slowly but surely from the lack of sunlight. However, he was covered with a layer of grime so thick, one could barely tell. The Scout’s entire body was covered with harsh bruises, and his wrists and ankles were rubbed raw due to the tight shackles, but his blue eyes still burned with that cocky, resolute flare. Pity. It would have easier on the both of them if he’d just given up after the first beating.   
  
“Yeah right, dumbass. I heard about you fuckin’ around with my mom. You really think she’ll let you anywhere near her if you had anything to do with my death?” the boy snickered in his quick, fast-talking Bronx accent.   
  
“Heh…” The man took another long draw on his cigarette. “Just like a child. ‘iding behind your mozzer’s skirt until zee very end.”   
A deep flush. “Y-Yeah right. I’m not hidin’ behind nobody – I’m just tellin’ you like it is.”   
The man smirked nastily. “Do you really t’ink zis is zee first time I’ve disposed of a relative of someone I’m physically involved with? Please. I’ll get rid of you quickly and quietly, and when your body finally shows up, I’ll be there to comfort ‘er, telling ‘er zat I did everyt’ing I could to save you.” Spy knew from experience that it usually wasn’t difficult to convince people that he was the good person they thought he was. Especially if they already wanted to believe him.   
  
“Yeah, right. My mom would never believe ya, ya fuckin’ coward.”   
“We’ll see. Now…” The RED Spy flicked away his half-used cigarette and pulled a fresh one from his case, lighting it up. The orange glow highlighted his gaunt, predatory face from below, casting many odd shadows over his face. “Enough stalling, boy. Tell me everyzhing you know about zee whereabouts of zee RED intelligence.”   
  
Another infuriating smirk. “Uh, buddy? I don’t know if you noticed, but… I’m just a Scout. What makes you think I know where they took that suitcase fulla junk? I’m pretty low down on the pecking order, ya know what I’m saying?”   
  
His mischievous eyes sparkled, as if saying, “Yeah, I know something, but I ain’t telling you what it is.” It pissed Spy off to no end, but he couldn’t be seen losing his head. This was a job that called for cool, calculated ruthlessness.   
  
“Well.” Spy calmly placed the revolver down on the table. “I suppose there’s no ‘ope of reaching compromise civilly.” He snapped his fingers crisply to call his two assistants to attention. “Unchain him, restrain him, and bind ‘is face.”   
  
“Wh…What are you doing?!” the BLU Scout cried, growling as Heavy unlocked his chains and roughly seized him by his thin arms. He tried to fight back, but his arms were too weak from being weighed down from the heavy shackles, as well as the lack of movement for days on end. He found that he could barely move them. “Hey! Hey, let me go!” He tried to twist away and even tried to bite the two as a black cloth was tied around his face, making him unable to see, and barely able to breathe or talk.   
  
“Hold ‘im.” The Spy’s measured footsteps drew ever-closer as his two assistants forcibly pressed Scout to the cold stone floor, pinning him by his neck and limbs.   
  
Suddenly, a rush of ice cold water flooded his senses. Scout screamed and tried his best to wrench away, but Heavy forced him still by brutally twisting his arm in on itself. More water poured down, sending his body practically into convulsions.   
  
Scout had never been afraid of water before – hell, swimming was one his favorite hobbies after running and playing ball. But this… This was something straight out of a nightmare. It was starkly reminiscent of the swimming accident he’d suffered when he was eight or nine. It felt like he was drowning.   
  
There was nothing that he wanted to do more than to suffer the abuse silently and laugh in that masked freak’s face and boast how there was nothing that creep could do to make him spill the beans, but… Holy hell. He was already shaking like a leaf during a violent storm, and, God, he knew it was just starting.   
  
He wanted to cry. A beating, he could take. This was… something completely different. But still, he had to keep quiet. Whatever this fucker could do to him was nothing compared to what his own team would do to him if he gave away the location to that stupid suitcase full of crap.   
  
God, what had he gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, my debut to this site! I've been meaning to do this for quite some time, but I just never felt up to it. The tags have some spoilery stuff, but it's nothing too major, I hope. 
> 
> The beginning of this fic is a little difficult to look at, but over all, this is probably the best thing I've made so far in my 8-ish years of writing. It's still unfinished as of now, due to mental problems, but I hope to get it done by this year! I hope you enjoy the fic as much as I enjoyed making it!


	2. Third Molar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout still isn't giving the info. Maybe he'll be more talkative with less teeth crowding his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If dentistry horror isn't your bag of chips, you might want to skip this one.

The boy twisted violently, some primal instinct within him springing alive, demanding that he not die without a fight, at the very least. The massive Russian bear growled and jerked him back into place, nearly dislocating Scout’s left arm in the process. The boy gave a startled yelp in response, but was soon cut off by the unforgiving torrent of frigid water the Spy was pouring in his face.   
  
After what seemed an eternity, the water stopped, the cloth ripped away from his face soon after. The boy gratefully gulped in a lungful or two of air, coughing and sputtering. His shirt was plastered to his thin chest, showing his ribs as he sucked in breath after laborious breath.   
  
Spy tsk-tsked, examining a fancy gold pocket-watch attached to a chain. “Oh, please, boy… After all zat big talk, I would ‘ave expected you to survive at least thirty seconds.” Another one of those slimy, shit-eating smiles.   
  
The BLU Scout couldn’t even muster the effort to offer one of his vain, snide remarks in return. All he could do was glare up at the older man, eyes smoldering with weak hatred, teeth chattering with the cold and dull fear as Heavy shackled him up once again.   
  
Spy slowly raised one of his eyebrows, and replaced his pocket watch within the folds of his suit. “Zat…” he began, taking another draw on his cigarette, “was just a taste of what can be expected if you do not talk. And also a warning. My threats are not to be taken lightly, you illiterate street rat.”   
“I meant what I said. I ain’t tellin’ you nothin’,” Scout whimpered, voice cracking. He couldn’t help but dread whatever that psycho had planned next.   
  
Spy snarled, and roughly grabbed the boy by his cheeks. “Zis is not a GAME, you pig. You WILL tell me what I need to know, or—”   
Suddenly, Scout jerked his head away, and snapped at Spy’s hand, biting down viciously on one finger. He hadn’t really meant to – it was mostly instinct. He was just SO determined to show that bastard to be careful where he put his hands – that there was some fight in him, yet.   
  
Spy howled, jerked his hand back, and promptly backhanded Scout for such a show of insolence. “You DOG!” he snapped, trembling with shock and rage. It didn’t hurt him much – he still had his thick, leather gloves on, after all – but the AUDACITY of that little wretch to…   
  
He sneered once again at the boy. “It’s time someone do somet’ing about those deplorably crooked teeth of yours, boy. Engineer!” he snapped, removing his expensive, leather gloves and stashing them in his coat pocket. They were promptly replaced by thin, latex ones. “Zee dentistry instruments, s’il vous plaît. Quickly, now.”   
  
Scout’s stomach dropped. God, he hated the dentist. Always had. His teeth were really messed up for a reason. “Y…You touch me again and I’ll bite your fucking nuts off next – I mean it!”   
  
“I’d like to see you try,” Spy chuckled mirthlessly, as the Engineer wrenched his jaws open. Paying no heed to Scout’s protests, he hooked an oral speculum in his mouth so that biting would no longer be an issue.   
  
Scout growled and twisted, trying to work the thing out of his mouth, but Heavy was quick on the scene to hold him still once more.   
  
“Light, please.”   
Engineer, now standing from a slight distance shone the light into the Scout’s mouth so that Spy could see what he was doing.   
  
Scout coughed forcefully into Spy’s face, glaring and trembling with fear.   
Spy shot him an unimpressed look, donned a spare surgical mask, and snapped his fingers. “Pliers.”   
Scout’s blood turned to ice as he watched the Engineer hand over a rusty, wicked looking pair. Shaking, he tried to twist away, but Heavy held his face rigidly in place.   
  
Spy began poking around nonchalantly, an unimpressed expression on his face. Scout was watching him intently, eyes wide with unspeakable terror. Every time he felt the cold, harsh metal clank harmlessly against the hard enamel of his tooth, his entire body went taunt as a rope.   
  
“Let’s see ‘ere…” Spy hummed idly, continuing to prod at the boy’s mouth. He was at a bit of a bind here. As much as would have liked to rid himself of the boy’s repulsive, crooked incisors, he didn’t want to risk making the boy’s already inarticulate mutterings even more difficult to understand. He didn’t want to finally get a confession out of the boy and be completely unable to understand a word the dolt was saying.   
  
Suddenly, the man’s ice-blue eyes flashed. “Come closer with zat light, Laborer.”   
The Engineer shot Spy a quick glare of contempt, but inched closer so that he could see what he was doing.   
  
Scout couldn’t see the shit-eating smile on Spy’s face, but the bastard’s eyes spoke volumes by themselves. “I see you ‘ave matured enough to develop wisdom teeth…” the man chuckled, prodding at one. “What luck. I hear they are zee most painful to extract.”   
Scout felt his breathing getting shaky and irregular. It was all he could do to not scream and beg for mercy. This was a nightmare. Unable to control himself, he began trembling once more. His wide eyes, glassy with unshed tears, were silently pleading for mercy.   
The Spy just smiled at him from behind the paper mask.   
  
“Last chance.”   
  
Scout whimpered as he felt the pliers loosely grasp his bottom-right wisdom tooth. Shaking with absolute terror, he scrunched his eyes shut, and waited for the consequences of his decision.   
  
Suddenly, Spy’s left hand was grasping the boy’s skull in an iron grip, and a foot planted itself in his chest for balance.   
  
Then excruciating pain. Spy clamped down forcefully with the pliers and wrenched as hard as he could, disregarding the blood spurting out of the boy’s mouth. Scout howled and tried his best to wrench away, fighting as hard as he possibly could.   
  
Scout was expecting pain, but not pain like THIS. And certainly not those horrid SOUNDS. Even over his shrill, panicked screaming, he could hear alarming popping and tearing sounds as the tooth was ripped away from bone and vital nerves. The taste of bitter copper was upon his tongue in no time at all, and sooner, still, Scout found himself choking on his own blood and spittle.   
  
He was hyperventilating. His chains rattled as he tried to blindly claw his way out of this hellish torment. Anything to take his mind off of that pain. That horrible, blinding pain…   
  
“HOLD HIM, you imbecile!” the Spy snapped. For some reason, he sounded so far away…   
  
It was unreal. Scout had suffered through more broken bones, minor gunshot wounds, and blunt trauma than he could remember, both in his rough childhood and on the battlefield. None of them compared. This pain RADIATED. His entire jaw felt like it was made of red-hot iron, and any flesh around the tooth burned as if it was being disintegrated by hydrochloric acid. His cheek and tongue were numbed from the overwhelming sensation, and his head throbbed with a migraine that shook his brain loud enough to wake the heavens.   
  
Suddenly, a sickening crack, and then a crunch. Scout gave a strangled, garbled shriek as he felt something sharp drive further into his gums. Spy gave an irritable huff. “Look what you made me do, you stupid boy.” He held up a bloody, broken mess of what could only be shattered remnants of the tooth he was pulling. “Now I’ll be here all day pulling out zis infernal tooth bit by bit.” An annoyed smile. “I hope you’re ‘appy.”   
  
Scout couldn’t quite remember what happened right after that. The pain was too much – he’d probably passed out. All he knew was that moments after everything went black, he was ripped back to horrid consciousness by some putrid smell.   
  
Spy grinned down at him, holding a handkerchief that seemed doused with something. “Sorry, boy, but I simply can’t allow you to escape into zee luxuries of sleep. I’d be undoing all of my hard work.” Scout’s eyes widened as he pulled out the pair of pliers again. “Now, where were we…”   
  
Panic. “NOH!” the young man cried, voice loud and shrill with panic. “Nah ah-gin! Ah’wl tahlk!”   
Spy paused and placed the pliers down. “… Pardon?”   
More hysterical sobs as burning, salty tears streamed down Scout’s face. “Ah’wl tehwl ‘ou ANEHDIN’! N… Noh mohr, ‘M beggin ya…”   
  
He’d done it. He’d betrayed his own fucking team when they were depending on him. All he had to do was keep his stupid mouth shut, and he couldn’t even do THAT right… He didn’t think he could show his face around them again. He was nothing but a screw-up and a punk.   
  
There was a long, painful moment of silence filled only by Scout’s sobs and pitiful whimpers. The Engineer and Heavy looked up at Spy expectantly. Finally, he nodded, and the Engineer undid the device holding Scout’s trembling mouth open.   
  
Spy was going through another fresh cigarette and putting back on his standard gloves as Engineer worked. After the mechanic was done, Spy decided to wait until Scout stopped sobbing before pressing his case. Seconds later, he decided it was taking far too long.   
  
“Zee location of our intelligence, boy. Do not make me ask again.”   
Scout swallowed painfully, the taste of blood bitter on his tongue. “I…I don’t know all the… details…” the boy started unsteadily. “B…But… I heard them… uh…” A pause as he choked back another sob. “Mention some place… Cold… U…Up north. Think it’s some stupid fuckin’ European country or some sh—”   
  
“Names, boy,” Spy sighed, voice obviously impatient.   
“I-I’m g…gettin’ to that…” the boy whimpered. He furrowed his brow, staring down at the floor in earnest concentration. “Um… I… I think it was called… N… Norra Scocha or something…”   
“Nova Scotia?” the Spy demanded.   
“Somethin’ like that…”   
Looking away, Spy took another long draw of his cigarette, and silently let the tendrils of smoke curl out of his nostrils. “… Interesting…”   
  
There was another painful silence as Spy mused this over. The Engineer and Heavy were talking in hushed voices at the other end of the room, but about what, Scout couldn’t say. Finally, the boy cleared his throat nervously, and inquired in a cracked voice, “S…So, am I free to go now…?”   
  
Spy bit back the incredulous laugh tickling the back of his throat. Better the boy not know. Not yet. “I’m afraid not.”   
Scout shifted uncomfortably. “I told you what you wanted to know.”   
“Oui. But allow me anot’er question, s’il vous plaît.”   
“No.”   
“ZAT was not a request,” Spy snapped irritably. “Now zat we know where OUR intelligence is, you will tell us where YOURS is.”   
Scout felt his blood freeze up again.   
  
 _Anything but that…_


	3. Time Crunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spy desperately tries to come up with a way to get Scout to talk. Time for him might be running out.

“Sorry, man – I-I can’t answer that,” the Scout replied quickly. Too quickly.   
Spy snarled and jammed his foot squarely into Scout’s chest, knocking the wind out of him. “Don’t insult my intelligence with such transparent lies, boy.”   
“It… ain’t a lie,” Scout gasped out with an infuriating amount of resolution. He squared his shoulders stubbornly, and clenched his jaw. “Sorry, man – that’s all I know.”   
  
He couldn’t help but think about his team. BLU had been on the run for weeks now with a series of devastating losses of land. The Intel grab was supposed to put them back on the map again – put a little more wind in their sails. If RED stormed in and recovered their Intel… Well, there would be casualties, sure, but BLU was likely to have decoded most, if not all, of the information already.   
  
 _But if OUR Intel is stolen,_  Scout thought, his heartbeat escalating with panic,  _we’ll be worse off than before. RED’ll wipe us off of the friggin’ map._    
  
Scout didn’t want to be in any more pain. But the thought of his entire team getting slaughtered – for real – just because he couldn’t stand the heat… No, that wasn’t going to happen. He wasn’t going to pussy out again.   
  
His eyes flickered up to glare at the Spy, the bold, smoldering fire alight in his eyes once more. Spy returned it with his falcon-like gaze.   
  
“Honestly, boy,” he sighed, crouching so that he was eye-level with the little BLU wretch. He twirled his cigarette idly between his finger-tips, trying to maintain his patience. “I’ve already ‘ad you water-boarded and I’ve pulled out one of your deplorable teeth. Do you  _really_  want more?”   
  
Scout was glaring off to the side now, so Spy pressed the cherry end of his cigarette to the pale flesh of Scout’s exposed neck. There was a slight hissing sound as the flesh blackened and blistered around it. Scout sucked in a tight breath, clenched his teeth together, and let out a weak whine of pain, but still refused to look at the man.   
  
Spy growled dangerously and seized Scout by the collar, bringing him close to his snarling face. His breath was heavy with the scent of tobacco and Brandy. “What are you trying to ACHIEVE, you imbecile?! You WILL tell me what I desire to know, whether it takes hours, days, or weeks! Why do you resist?!”   
  
When Scout didn’t reply, he drew out his beautiful revolver and bashed the boy on the skull with it, tarnishing its intricate designs with the dark, red stain of blood. Scout drooped, threatening to lose consciousness once more, but Spy seized him by the collar again and slammed him to the wall, growling like a feral animal. The chains rattled noisily with the sudden, violent motion.   
  
“ANSWER ME.”   
“I already told ya,” Scout mumbled dazedly. He tried to focus. “I… dunno nothin’. Ya wastin’ ya time, big guy.” It came out surprisingly easy, despite how thick and dry his tongue felt in his mouth.   
  
Spy gave the little snot-nosed brat another firm back-hand, and stormed to his feet, pacing around in a barely-controlled rage. The Heavy and Engineer stared wordlessly as the man began neurotically drawing a fresh cigarette, lighting it up and barely taking a single draw before he tossed it away and pulled out another. As he did so, he hissed venomously, “I’m not finished with you YET, my boy. Oh, no. No, no… I’ve got many more tricks up my sleeve! Perhaps I’ll start ripping off the nails from your fingers and toes! Hmmm? Would you like zat?!” he snapped.   
  
Silence was all that met him. Spy was sure that nothing could be more annoying than the little delinquent's shrill, grating voice, but this deliberately defiant silence was much,  _much_  worse.   
  
RED Soldier had made himself clear that Spy wasn’t supposed to utilize any interrogation methods that would kill the BLU Scout. At least not right away. He was supposed to get all information from him as quickly as possible, then kill the boy and dispose of all evidence once they investigated if the information was legitimate. But they needed the information first. And they needed it quickly.   
  
There was no margin of error. Period.   
  
But what was he supposed to do? He could sense the Scout was retreating back into a protective mental shell. It was very possible that he’d been tortured before with such tenacity. And it was clear that the boy had the stupid, but noble idea that he was a hero by saving his teammates – as if there WERE any heroes in this game they played – as well as the idiotic thought that he would actually be let go if he stayed silent long enough. Unfortunately, he also seemed to recognize that he was too valuable to kill with his information. Or to psychologically scar past his limit, for that matter…   
  
The man’s mind whirled frantically as he took in a deep draw and flicked another cigarette away. He’d never been under such restraints for interrogation before. He was used to terrorizing his victims with a slow and painful death until they begged for a merciful shot between the eyes and were willing to tell whatever they knew to receive it. And if they died before information was yielded… Well, there were always other men to “ask” instead.   
  
But this Scout was the only one they could get their hands on – assisted by the RED Spy’s relationship with his mother. The only BLU mercenary they’d been able to get since the damned war had started. There was no room for error… No second chances if he made a miscalculation…   
  
He continued on his fanatical ranting tirade, his threats getting increasingly sadistic as his own panic escalated. “OR, per’aps I could force-feed you your own filthy waste! I could even get zee Medic down ‘ere and—”   
The Engineer suddenly pulled him aside as the boy winced at the threat. “Easy there, pardner,” he warned in a low, solemn voice. “You can’t bring the Doc into this. Soldier made sure to specify that.”   
Spy jerked away from the Engineer’s grasp, and jabbed a thin, pointy finger into the man’s chest, hissing back, “And ‘e ALSO specified zat I was to be zee ONLY one to speak, and zat YOU moronic commoners are not to get in my way!”   
Engineer just shook his head. “It’s no use right now. We should try again tomo—”   
  
Spy suddenly waved him off. “Shush, Laborer.” His brow was creased thoughtfully.   
The Engineer snarled and was about to object to Spy’s offensive nickname, when he caught sight of the expression on the man’s face. He grudgingly stayed silent, if only to hurry this uncomfortable and highly unpleasant process to its end.   
  
It was possible… Very possible that Spy had been going about this the wrong way!   
  
Yes… His focus had been all wrong. His techniques were painful, to be sure, but would not serve as a continual physical, as well as psychological, reminder that would stay with the boy for the remainder of his life. Something that would hit him hard – something he’d be most certainly afraid of losing forever…   
  
The answer came immediately.   
  
There was a sudden relaxing of Spy’s posture that warranted an uneasy glance from Scout. Spy didn’t return it immediately, taking time to finally enjoy the smooth essence of his luxurious Dunhill Special Reserve cigarette. The panicked haze he’d momentarily gone through was over now; the information of the whereabouts of the BLU Intel was as good as his.   
  
The slow, cobra-esque grin that split his face in two somehow made Engineer and Heavy feel just as anxious as the very Scout the grin was meant for.   
  
“We all enjoy various activities…” Spy began vaguely, pausing for a moment to deftly blow out a ring of smoke.   
Scout watched him warily, jaw set tight.   
“Zee Laborers, for example—”   
A low growl from the Engineer. Again with that nickname.   
“They like to build their fancy little toys for me to destroy. Zee ‘eavies like their big guns. Zee Medics like… well… You know. I like getting my information and keeping a lucrative career in which it is my duty to simply stab anyone stupid enough to stand still. And you…”   
  
The man poked Scout in the chest with deceptive – mocking, even – tenderness. His predator-like grin softened. “And you like to run.”   
  
A pause as Scout tried to see where this was going. Spy continued softly, sounding everything like a father lulling his child to sleep with a bedtime story. “Like? No… You LOVE it. Don’t you? You love zee wind in your hair, zee feel of your feet slapping against hard pavement, zee burning in your legs, zee rush of your heartbeat, zee sting of every exhilarating breath…”   
  
Scout nodded unconsciously, eyes dreamy. He closed his eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, imagining it was from the fresh outdoors. He’d hardly been able to MOVE since his capture – much less have a good run. He missed it more than he missed NOT feeling like a drowned rat with a nail jammed into the inside of his jaw and a hammer beating on the side of his head.   
  
WHACK.   
  
Scout couldn’t hold back his pained cry as the drummer inside his skull beat at double-time. Spy stood, the barrel of his revolver coated with yet another thin layer of blood from the Scout’s forehead. His smile stayed professional and refined, even as his eyes burned with the insane glee that came with a knowing victory.   
  
Everyone in the room flinched as Spy unexpectedly fired a round just a  _hair_  away from the boy’s thigh.   
  
“What would you do if you could never run again?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... I think it's worth mentioning that I actually did some research on kneecapping, and apparently it's done at the BACK of the knee to sever some kinda nerve or something - idk. I wanted to try to fit that in to show, "Hey, I actually DID look this up," but I couldn't quite fit it into the story smoothly, so I'm going to call Artistic License on this one, and ask that you guys just assume that all the effects of a NORMAL kneecapping took place, even though it was executed differently.


	4. Bourne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scout is pushed past the brink. Spy approaches his own.

Scout’s heart skipped a beat, and he immediately drew his knees up to his chest. “H-Hey… Easy, now… I… I already told ya what I know!” When he saw that the Spy was calmly reloading his weapon and no longer paying him any sort of mind, he blurted, “O-Okay! So maybe I DO know something! But I still can’t tell you!”   
“Oh, you’ll find zat you most certainly can,” Spy muttered, clicking shut the chamber.   
“No – you don’t understand!” Scout screamed, frantic voice going shrill. “You don’t know what they do to traitors over there, man! I CAN’T!!!”   
Spy only raised one, dubious eyebrow.   
Scout trembled, eyes darting over the floor, as if the answers to his dilemma were spelled out on the filthy, damp concrete.   
  
Finally, there came a stifled sob. The boy lowered his head further, ashamed of crying for the second time in front of the grown, battle-hardened men before him.   
  
Spy waited patiently.   
  
“P…Please…” came the cracked whimper. “Please don’t make me tell… I… I just can’t…”   
“You can, and you will.” Spy cocked his revolver meaningfully.   
“NO! NO, no, no, no, no!” Scout cried, shrinking back in on himself. “Please… Please! I… I’ll never cause any trouble for you guys again! I’ll quit the war! I’ll drop off the face of the fuckin’ planet if you want me to – just don’t make me tell you! PLEASE!”   
  
Spy gazed into the Scout’s eyes, expression as grim and hawk-like as ever. Although it was incredibly difficult for Scout, he stared back, eyes bloodshot and unsure.   
  
Eventually, Spy lowered his gun and softened his gaze with a considerable amount of effort. “Boy, I really don’t want to do zis,” he lied in a soothing voice. “I’m ‘ere for one t’ing only: and zhat’s to get zee information I desire. I’ll gladly let you go – I’ll even personally escort you to your new-found freedom and ensure your lovely mozzer you ‘ave not been ‘armed.”   
  
His voice dipped into that gentle, father-like tone again. “But you ‘ave to tell me what I want to know first, Cameron.”   
  
He paused. “Please.”   
  
There was silence for several long moments. Scout opened his mouth, paused uneasily as he mulled over what he was about to say in his mind, chewed his lip, and took a deep, shaky breath.   
  
“I-I… I really can’t tell you, but I—”   
  
Spy didn’t even remember pulling the trigger. All he knew was that he was that one moment, he was patiently listening to the simpering little imbecile, and the next, he was scowling ferociously as he fired again and again into the boy’s kneecap, shattering it in a matter of seconds.   
  
The pain shot through Scout’s leg like a bolt of lightning, every bullet sending his body into a convulsion of anguish. And, oh God, did he scream. He screamed as loud as he could manage so that everyone in the entire world could know the pain he was going through. The fear he felt, wondering what else these cruel bastards could put him through. And, most of all, that the one thing that mattered most to him was taken away forever.   
  
Spy seized him while he was in the midst of writhing in his restraints, and squeezed his cheeks forcefully, making the dull ache pulsing within his mouth return at full force. “I don’t t’ink zat you were listening,” the infuriated Frenchman hissed, eyes blazing. He brought his face nose-to-nose with the terrified boy’s. “Now do you want to tell me where zat Intel is, or do you want to go for two?!” He pressed the barrel of the gun to the boy’s other knee, finger hovering dangerously on the trigger.  
  
Scout couldn’t seem to stop shaking. He convulsed more, eyes rolling into back of his head. It was too much – the pain, the stress, and God, Spy’s breath – he felt like he was choking… Couldn’t breathe…   
  
Spy withdrew as the boy started gagging forcefully, but when nothing came, he resumed his position straddling the helpless teen on the ground. He shook Scout forcefully by the shoulders, growling as the boy’s eyes flickered and rolled back in their sockets yet again.   
  
“TELL ME!” he screamed, shoving him against the wall.   
“—I—”   
“TELL ME!!!” Spy repeated, slamming those frail shoulders yet again over the cold stone.   
“TELL ME, TELL ME, TELL M—”   
  
“Iceland!” the boy choked out between his sobs and whimpers of pain. “Th… The Intel… It’s being held i…in… Iceland…”   
  
Spy withdrew, allowing the boy a moment to control himself and speak in more than barely understandable blubbers. chest heaving, Scout continued, “Th… There’s this huge v…volcano… Off the south coast… Can’t remember what it’s called… Th…They have a base there… Only one entrance… and it’s crawlin’ with Engies and Heavies. That’s… That’s really all I know. Just… Just please… Don’t… No more…” Another sob, followed by violent coughing and a sickening retch.   
  
Spy smirked. “Well done, boy,” he cooed mockingly, patting the trembling soul’s cheek. He stood, glancing back at his two visibly uncomfortable comrades. “You two ‘ave served your purpose – you may be excused. I’m charging you wiz zee task of relaying zee whereabouts of zee RED and BLU Intel to Soldier on zee way back to your quarters. Zhis has been an overwhelming success.”   
  
Engineer exhaled, suddenly becoming aware that he’d been holding his breath. “So we’re done now? We can leave?”   
“Yes. Goodbye.”   
Engineer was already making a beeline towards the door, but Heavy stopped and glanced back at the masked villain. “You are not coming vit us?” he asked in his heavy Russian accent.   
“No, unfortunately not. I have some matters to attend to in order to make sure our ‘ard work is not undone,” the Frenchman answered vaguely, spinning his cigarette between his fingertips. “But your duty is finished. You may take your leave.”   
  
The heavy-set Russian man stared at Spy a moment longer, then shrugged and left along with his smaller, Texan counterpart.   
  
Scout watched, trembling as the heavy steel door opened, flooding the dimly lit cellar with the blood red glow of the setting sun. The door swung shut, extinguishing the light all at once, and with it, Scout’s last hope of freedom.


	5. Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Graphical depiction of rape/non-con ahead. Please skip this chapter if you are triggered by such material.

If there was one thing Spy loved, it would be the intoxicating feeling of power wrought from fear. His was a different sort, he knew. He wasn’t like that brute of a Russian bear or the psycho-patriotic Soldier; he couldn’t FORCE his victims to fear him by sheer brute strength or physical intimidation.   
  
His was a creeping kind of fear – the one of a child afraid of the eerie shadows cast by what was supposed to be a comforting night-light. The chill that invariably creeps up one’s neck when they find themselves walking alone after dusk.   
  
He thrived on this fear – uncertainty was what gave him power, and it never felt as sweet as when it came from someone who was so infuriatingly overconfident. Be it a filthy bushman too busy staring through his scope to survey his surroundings every-so-often, or a Heavy roaring with laughter as he slowly mowed down the ranks without noticing that his precious Medic was no longer with him.   
  
Maybe that’s why, he told himself, that he found the terrified look in Scout’s eyes so intricately alluring.   
  
The boy’s eyes followed him as the man drew forward. He was still shaking and sobbing, the shattered remains of what could have been called his knee still bleeding profusely.   
  
Suddenly, Spy whipped his revolver out again, aiming the barrel directly at Scout’s face. The boy gasped, immediately shrinking in on himself. Spy smirked placing it back in his holster. “Are you afraid of me now, little Scout? And here I was, t’inking you were a big MAN…”   
Scout averted his eyes to the ground, still shaking. “You… You shot me i…in the knee…” he muttered, feebly trying to justify himself.   
  
Spy chuckled, lighting another cigarette. “Yes. Yes, I did. And do you know why?” He paused to blow a few smoke rings. “Because YOU disobeyed a direct order from me. And let me inform you right now zat your short life will become VERY difficult should you continue to disobey.”   
  
Something about the way Spy said that made Scout shift uncomfortably. “Hey… Wait. Didn’t you say you were going to let me go?”   
“Yes, I did.” The smile widened into a terrifyingly mirthless grin. “But zat was before you practically spat in my face and refused my offer, despite my kindness. What I said before zat incident is now null and void.” At the expression of horror spreading through the boy’s features, he added, “Oh, don’t worry, you little hooligan. If it makes you feel better, I never planned on keeping my promise, anyhow.”   
“You… You bast—”   
  
Spy flipped open his butterfly knife, eyes glinting. “Pardon?”   
Scout lowered his eyes, immediately realizing his mistake. “N-No – I didn’t mean—”   
  
And suddenly, the glinting blade was as the boy’s neck. “Are you STUPID, you pathetic, bucktoothed mongrel?! I’m only going to tell you zis ONCE: you belong to RED Co. now. More specifically, you belong to ME. I’ve been authorized to do anyt’ing I can to make your life miserable, and, trust me, zee more you whine like a _stupid, pathetic little GIRL_ , zee more ideas I get. So I’d suggest you keep your mouth SHUT.”   
  
Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, and he nodded meekly, ever mindful at the knife pressed against his throat. He bit his lip in order to hold back another sob.   
  
Spy scoffed, and made a few quick, clean cuts in Scout’s undershirt, which was still cold and damp from the water-boarding. He hastily lifted Scout’s wounded leg (prompting a few painful screams), and fashioned a crude bandage around the knee. “There. Zat should ‘old you until I can be bot’ered to hire someone to maintain you.”   
Scout whimpered. Maintain? What does he…   
  
That’s when it hit him. Spy had meant everything he said completely literally. Scout was no longer a person. He was a thing now – a belonging in every sense of the word. He didn’t have a future. He didn’t have a family. Hell, he probably didn’t even have a name anymore. All he had now was a purpose – to serve and survive.   
  
He was brought back from his grim realization by the sound of a zipper. A gloved hand yanked his chin up so that Scout’s eyes were level with the undone fly and lovely silk boxers.   
  
“Mouth open. Time to test your resolve.”   
  
It took a moment for Scout to understand exactly what Spy was asking of him. He blinked for a second, and the next moment, his eyes were wide with disbelief. “You… You’re into dudes?!”   
“No, of course not – don’t be ridiculous,” Spy snapped back, obviously irritable and partially mortified by his own request. “And even if I WAS, I’d find someone like YOU about as desirable as a dead, half-rotted pig. However…”   
  
He took a deep draw, then exhaled again, cigarette resting between his fingers as he clutched a fistful of the boy’s hair. His other hand pulled out his flaccid member and wiggled it slightly in front of Scout’s face.   
  
“This isn’t about desire. This is about  _power._ ”   
“N’ what if I bite you?” Scout growled softly, bristling despite himself.   
“Do you honestly even want to know zee answer to that question?”   
  
Scout winced, and glanced back at the man’s member. It smelled clean, at least, and it was well groomed, but… It took all the boy’s will power to not start gagging all over again.   
  
“I…” The boy’s voice wavered. “I can’t—”   
Spy promptly drew his gun again and struck him on the forehead, just barely missing his temple. Scout gave a startled shriek as his brain pounded mercilessly against the inside of his skull.   
“Okay! Okay…” Scout sniffled, lower lip quivering as he pleadingly looked up at the older man.   
  
He took a deep breath, and swallowed back the bile tickling the back of his throat. He closed his eyes tightly, hesitantly extended his tongue, and enveloped as much he could of the flaccid cock in his mouth.   
  
Spy gasped slightly, arching forward into the boy’s mouth. He’d been trapped in this God-forsaken base far too long – had he really almost forgotten the feeling of getting sucked off? Maybe not, but still, he hadn’t expected Scout’s mouth to feel quite so warm…   
  
Scout felt his stomach turn as Spy let loose a soft, guttural moan and pulled his head closer. It hadn’t taken him long to get hard, and now Scout could even taste what he could only guess was… Oh, God… Was that… Precum?   
  
He held back a gag, and glared up at Spy in bitter resentment, thankful that the man didn’t have his eyes open to see his expression.  _“Not interested in guys” my ass… Only a total fag would get off from this. Only a total fag would ask for me to DO this!_    
  
Suddenly, a feeling of defeat washed over him. What was he doing? He was sitting here sucking some fag off like a little fucking whore! He should have fought more – said something, bit, tore, fought tooth and nail until every bone in his body was broken… It was useless, he knew, but he should have fought. He should have fought because that was what a real man would have done.   
  
A sob swelled in the boy’s chest. He wanted to go home. He’d had enough of trying to prove himself on the battle field or trying to be a “real” man – he wanted his mom, damn it. He wanted to be in HIS house, warm and wrapped up in a blanket and listening to the radio and eating soup his mom had made from scratch.   
  
He wanted to sleep in his bed. He wanted to be reading HIS comic books. He wanted to hug every last one of his big brothers. He wanted to go outside and RUN.   
  
 _Will I ever get to do any of those ever again?_    
  
Scout was already on the cusp of breaking into hysteria, and Spy’s gentle prodding of, “Come on, boy… Take it all, now…” proved to be the straw that broke the camel’s back.   
  
The boy spat out the throbbing cock with nothing short of disgust, and began wailing as loudly as he could. Spy was taken aback for half a second, then growled, shaking the boy’s shoulders. “What are you doing?! I didn’t say you could stop!” he snapped.   
“I… WANT… MY… MOOOM!!!” Scout screamed at the top of his lungs.   
  
Spy was infuriated. “Open your mouth!” he demanded.   
“ _Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!_ ” Scout continued sobbing shamelessly.   
Spy pressed his gun against the boy’s temple, enraged. “NOW!!!”   
  
The boy’s quivering mouth opened hesitantly, as he continued to sob. Paying no heed to the annoying little bother, Spy plunged into the open orifice.   
  
The reaction was instantaneous. Scout’s stomach heaved, and Spy managed to back away just half a second before the boy was bent forward, body shaking as he vomited violently and painfully. Before long, his entire front was covered with acrid, yellow bile.   
  
There were some dry heaves and coughs at the end as Scout spat, trying to rid himself of the horrid taste, but he hardly had any time to regroup before Spy wrenched his head back by the hair, and plunged in again.   
  
He face-fucked the boy soundly, driving himself in as deep as he could go without any concern of whether Scout could breathe or not or if he was in any pain. The boy did his best to keep up, still whimpering and sobbing and gasping for air whenever he was allowed time to breathe. There were more dry heaves, but he simply didn’t have anything left to expel. As soon as Spy caught on, he began ignoring them all together and simply pushed past them.   
  
“Oh, merde…” Spy groaned hoarsely, starting to break out into a sweat. As he glanced down at the boy under his control, he suddenly became acutely aware of how much the frightened, tear-streaked face resembled that of his mother’s. Only Spy had made love to the boy’s mother. Scout now only existed for a cheap, brutal fuck.  
  
An aroused growl emitted from Spy’s chest. This was his first time ever taking someone else without their express consent. He took pride in his ability to charm the ladies, and wouldn’t even take one home if he suspected she’d had too much to drink. He was a passionate, kind, and understanding lover – one that many women could only fantasize about.   
  
How surprised he was to find there was a beast hiding inside him all this time. There was a feral, sadistic hunger that craved to push Scout past every limit – to break him in every sense of the word. Seeing him sitting there, chained up, broken, terrified, and utterly helpless… It was everything his hidden, twisted self had ever wanted.   
  
He knew he’d be back for more.   
  
There was a strangled cry from Scout as Spy pressed himself deep into the boy’s throat with a curse, releasing inside of him. Then, he hurriedly pulled out and came over Scout’s face and hair, wanting it to serve as a physical reminder to the boy as to whose he was.   
  
Scout coughed and gagged, trying to force out the semen trapped inside of his throat. He didn’t want it inside him forever. God, he wanted to forget… But Spy clapped his gloved hand against the boy’s mouth and nose with a stern, “Swallow it. All of it.”   
Scout whimpered, eyes welling up as he did what he was told. Spy removed his hand, and let the boy cough and gag some more, the salty, bitter taste on his tongue not leaving him.   
  
After lighting up another cigarette, Spy left wordlessly, making sure to turn off the dim, pale light-bulb in the center of the lonely cellar.   
  
Scout sobbed quietly, cold semen running into his eyes, his mouth sore and swelling, and his leg screaming in pain. He prayed to whatever God there might be left to forgive him of any sin he’d ever committed.   
  
Then, he fervently prayed for death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you didn't get it, the chapter title is a reference to the "Moral Event Horizon". I suppose This is the point where it's clear who our main antagonist is going to be. This chapter feels a lot like an ending, but I promise it is only the beginning.


	6. Celebration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The RED team enjoys its success in getting its Intelligence back. Engineer has trouble getting into the spirit.

Sniper was up on stage, swaying unsteadily as he belted out the words to the song playing on the jukebox. “If I should call you up, invest a dime, and you say you belong to me, and ease my mind,” he croaked softly, as if knowing he SHOULD have been a lot more ashamed of what he was doing, even if he wasn’t. “Imagine how the world could be, so very fine, so happy  _togetheeer._ ”   
  
Pyro cheered and clapped along gleefully with the tempo as Sniper’s singing grew to a crescendo at the chorus. It even began singing along in its muffled voice with him: “I can’t see me lovin’ nobody but you! For all my life! When you’re with me, baby the skies will be blue! For all my liiife!”   
  
It was now ten days after Scout leaked the information of the RED Intel. Soldier had allowed his team a night celebration after RED’s successful recapture, and they sure as hell were going to use it. Now most of the team (excluding Soldier, who never went out of War-mode, and Spy, who’d become quite the recluse as of late) was jam-packed into the company-provided bar that was built inside of the base itself.   
  
Demoman had provided the booze, Scout had provided the tunes, and everyone was having a great time. Well, all except one.   
  
Engineer was huddled over in a dark corner near the back of the bar, clutching his drink as if it was the last beer on earth. He kneaded his brow, muttering softly that all the loud music and drunken sing-alongs were giving him a headache.   
  
Heavy was sitting beside him, watching Sniper perform as his audience whooped and cheered and sang along. Then, he glanced back at his comrade. Engineer hadn’t quite been the same since Scout’s interrogation, he’d noticed. He seemed tense all the time – as if he were lost in troubling thoughts that plagued his mind constantly. He also disappeared in his workshop for hours at a time. He’d always done that before, but now it was getting to the point where he’d start missing meals.   
  
Heavy had been hoping that this night out would help relax his friend, but he seemed even more distraught than before. It didn’t take much to figure out why.   
  
“You are still thinking about BLU Scout,” the big man rumbled, eyeing Engineer carefully. It wasn’t a question.   
Engineer paused, and nodded. “… Yeah. Guess I am,” he muttered back, fiddling with his bottle restlessly.   
Heavy sighed. “You are good man. But there is no need for you to feel guilt for leetle Scout. Is our job.”   
  
Engineer clenched his jaw. “You don’t gotta have morals t’know what happened back there was wrong n’ you know it. I’m far from a saint, Heavy, but… I ain’t never…” A shudder.   
Heavy shrugged. “Spy just does job like we do. Is not bad.”   
Engineer barked a laugh, prompting a startled look from Demo. “Please, Heavy, don’t even try t’defend that scum! Yeah, it was our job to get the locations of the Intel. But he could have stopped there.”   
  
A scowl. “Heavy, I done seen it, alright? With my very own two eyes. I know EXACTLY what he’s been puttin’ that poor soul through, and it’s  _appalling_. Hell, he has the nerve to even PAY me to clean up after his mess, which I do, because if I’M not the one to take care of ‘im, there ain’t a person in the world that WILL! And the damned sunnuva bitch KNOWS it, too!”   
  
The stocky man slammed his fist on the countertop in a barely-contained fit of rage, then rubbed his temples, trying his best to calm down. Demoman sauntered up, scrumpy held tightly in his hand. “Oi, lad, wot’s goin’ on here? Ye alroit, Engineer?”   
“Yeah, ‘m fine…” Engineer muttered, glaring at the wall.   
Heavy rubbed his back soothingly and looked up at Demoman. “He is not happy. Thinks Spy should leave leetle Scout alone.”   
Engineer just grunted, scowling.   
  
RED Scout, getting a slight wind of the conversation, popped in unannounced, a sloppy grin painted all over his face. “Wut? We talkin’ about dat BLU, squealin’ faggit? Man, whadda loser, am I right? Man, if those BLU mudderfuckers captured me, I wouldn’ta told ‘em NOTHIN’. What a frickin’ pansy-ass!”   
  
Engineer looked like he was about to retort (and maybe even throw some punches), but Demoman cut in and looped his arm drunkenly around Scout’s scrawny body. “Ach, listen to ye! Yeh don’t have the slightest idea of wut happened, an’ yet, here ye are, flappin yer gums like yer th' damn Superman!”   
  
The bar rang out with applause as Sniper attempted to bow to his audience, but only succeeded in toppling over. Pyro helped him back to his seat, as everyone had a good laugh over it – including Sniper, himself.   
  
Demoman jammed the flat end of his bottle into Scout’s skinny chest, grinning. “Anyways… Seems loik Snoipah’s dun wit ‘is caterwaulin’. How’s aboot we show ‘im how REAL men sing sappeh love songs?”   
“YEAH!” Scout laughed, stumbling over to the stage with a mug of bubbly, amber liquid in his mug. Demo followed suit, taking a swig from the old Scrumpy bottle.   
  
Heavy watched with more confusion than amusement as Scout fell over himself, spilling a great quantity of his drink, and exclaiming, “I’M SO DRUNK!”   
He turned to Engineer. “I thought you replaced Scout’s drink with sparkling white grape juice.”   
Engineer allowed himself a small smile at this. “I did.”   
Little did they know that Demoman had been topping the boy off all night.   
  
Engineer sighed and leaned back for a moment, and pretended for a moment that the forgotten reminded of the ugliest side of mankind currently chained up in the cellar simply did not exist. That he was enjoying a night of drinking with his friends and comrades and that he’d never seen the horrifying images that haunted his dreams.   
  
He let himself believe, just for a moment, that things would go back to normal.   
  
Music sprang from the jukebox and filled the tiny bar with a light, upbeat tune. Demoman went first with a slightly off-key, “Listen, baby! Ain’t no mountain high, ain’t no valley low, ain’t river wide enough, baby!”   
Scout cut in with a blissful, high-pitched, “If ya need me call me! No matter where ya are! No matter how far!”   
“Don’t worry baby!” Demo crooned.   
  
Scout did a little jig in place, careful not to lose his balance and topple over, continuing, “Just call my name! I’ll be there in a hurry! Ya don’t have ta worry!”   
Demo joined in, slinging an arm over Scout’s shoulder. “Cause, baby, there—”   
  
The entire bar joined in, gleefully ignoring any call for tone quality or pitch or the right notes, or, hell, sometimes even the right words. “AIN’T NO MOUNTAIN HIGH ENOUGH! AIN’T NO VALLEY LOW ENOUGH! AIN’T NO RIVER WIDE ENOUGH! To keep me from getting to YOU, babe!”   
  
Engineer was grinning. He was actually grinning for a split second as he saw Scout’s drunken, carefree smile. But the moment didn’t last long. He was immediately reminded of the beaten, broken, bloodied face of the boy’s counterpart, and he felt guilty for ever enjoying himself, even for a moment, while that poor boy was left alone, in unimaginable amounts of pain, and abandoned in the dark.   
  
Heavy blinked and watched as the man wordlessly rose to his feet. “Engineer—”   
A pause, then a tired, “Yeah?”   
Heavy gave him a stern look. “Do not do anything stupid. BLU Scout is not our problem. Stay avay – Spy vill get in trouble, not you.”   
  
Engineer didn’t reply as he left the boisterous bar.   
  
There wouldn’t be any time for pretending anymore. Things had changed, possibly for good, and he had work to do.


End file.
